Nothing More Beautiful (13 page)

“Sure, you got it. We’re done.” She turned
to Ashley. “Right?”

“Right.”

“Good.” I hopped back onto the elliptical.
Danielle waited for me to get moving before she followed suit.

“But why not?” Ashley asked a breath
later.

I eyed her with Danielle between us. “Why
not what?”

“Why not you?” she said. “You should take a
page out of the Russell Wilson handbook and think about it.”

“Who?”

“The quarterback for the Seahawks,” she
answered. “Remember from the Super Bowl? His dad always said, ‘why
not you?’ and the Seahawks turned it into ‘why not us?’ to get them
motivated. So, why can’t it be you? You’re definitely in his league
looks-wise—really, above him, but you see what I’m saying?”

The thought had crossed my mind.
Why not
me?
He had to date someone, didn’t he? But I couldn’t see me at
his side in any scenario. They all seemed so fake and
fantasy-based, grounded by the monetary gap between us. “Because.”
I paused.

They both stared at me, waiting. “Yeah?”
Danielle prompted.

I shrugged. “What would I do, just go up and
ask him out? Like he’s just some regular person? You two are
insane.”

“Why not?” Ashley said. “You want to prove
you’re not shy around guys: ask out a billionaire. Show your
business tenacity—your moxie.”

“You’ve got lots of it, we both know it,”
Danielle added.

My heartbeat was starting to climb again,
strangely encouraged by their words. It would be something to just
go up and do. Ask out a billionaire. I mean, I could do it, but the
rejection . . . yet, if I already knew it was
coming, what was the big deal, right?
Because you’d look like a
fool
, a voice inside me said.
You’d probably fall into his
arms again and have to face the humiliation in front of all these
people.
That thought terrified me.

But I did want to prove that I wasn’t as
timid as they judged me to be. “So, what would I say?”

“Well, he’s wearing a Blazers shirt, so we
know he’s into basketball,” Ashley noted. “You could ask him out to
Migration Brewing; they have ten-dollar pitchers during all Blazer
games.”

“It’s eleven since last Wednesday,” I
reminded her, “but I don’t think he’s worried about the cost of a
pitcher. We couldn’t go somewhere so relaxed.” I couldn’t believe I
was entertaining the idea at all. “It’s too average.”

“After everything you’ve said about
him”—Ashley took a quick drink—“He doesn’t really seem like the
tux-and-ballroom type. You’ve described him as nerdy and laidback,
until he gets awkward. He might like it if you asked him to a
regular place like Migration.”

“It’s a good idea,” Danielle reinforced. She
opened her mouth to say something when she whipped her head around,
apparently glimpsing something at the front, her jaw hanging loose.
“I don’t believe it.”

The dirty-blond, bra-only wonder had moved
aside a bench and was stretching in her short white spandex shorts
directly in view of Vince, bending at the waist. I noticed then
that she was wearing a plunge sports bra that displayed both her
girls. Vince’s eyes were glued to her cleavage.

“Well, now we definitely know he’s not gay,”
Danielle observed. I’d never had the feeling he was, but there was
little sense in arguing with her about the subject. “I think
someone is trying to steal your man.” Her irritation with the woman
was palpable.

“He’s not my man,” I pointed out.

“Still . . .” Her lips curled
up, and her eyes were practically lasers. “Hey, I have an idea—I’ll
go up there and distract the floozy while you ask out Vince. How’s
that sound?”

“Sounds terrible,” I said.

“Yeah, what?” Ashley gave her a severe
glare.

“Danielle stopped her machine and threw up
her arms to the side of mine to get me to slow down. “Sometimes,
Maci, you just have to take the plunge.”

Her words forced out a grin in me. That was
the advice I’d said to her before she proposed to Ashley. She was
madly in love with her but afraid of commitment. Now she was the
happiest I’d ever seen her. I swung my leg off the footpad and
wiped the sweat away with my towel. “Okay,” I said softly. I drew
in a big breath and exhaled, controlled. “I’ll take the
plunge.”

She smiled back. “Moxie.”

“Moxie,” I repeated. My jumpy nerves proved
hard to steel, and my tongue felt too big for my mouth, choking
me.

Danielle turned to Ashley. “Let’s see how
comfortable you are with this.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me
between the ellipticals and treadmills, up to the row of bikes,
heading left for the aisle. She let go of my hand as we
approached.

Blood was pounding in my ear, muting the
various gym noises. “Show him what you’ve got.” I heard her
encouragement, though dulled. I smiled thinly, all too aware of
what I was about to do.
Okay, time to lose the demure
attitude
, I told myself. Although I was wearing a skimpy blue
cami, it didn’t rival the woman’s bra outfit in terms of the
skin-to-fabric ratio, and was modest by comparison. She had turned
around so that her butt was now the show.

There was enough room that Danielle could
stretch beside the woman with a sizable gap between them. She
strolled up beside her, her backside facing the woman’s eyes, and
bent down in a sensual, rather than practical, position to
“stretch.” Vince’s eyes were now drawn to two pairs of cheeks as he
rested on the bench. Terrance was beside him pushing dumbbells into
the air as if he were punching the ceiling.

I composed myself, getting into my business,
brimming-with-confidence mode. “Enjoying the view?” I asked, with a
silly smirk that showed a sly playfulness.

Vince whirled his head and jerked back as he
spotted me. “I—uh—I was taking a break,” he said, his voice
cracking worse than a thirteen-year-old boy’s. “I noticed that
exercise ball was flat.” He pointed to a giant deflated rubber ball
in the corner, on the other side of Danielle, who was putting on a
show for Mrs. Huge Boobs. “I thought I should probably have someone
get a replacement out.” He was caught, but doing a fine job
covering it up. Sweat was pouring off him like a showerhead—a
showerhead I wanted to stand under. He stood, looking down at me.
“So, long time, no see. How are you? Need the bench again?”

I laughed, maybe a little too hard. Nerves.
Damn them. “No, I don’t need the bench, but that’s a good one.” The
joke stung a little, remembering the idiotic attempt to hide my
advance, when all the benches were vacant except his. I continued,
unfazed. “I’m doing well, just trying to get in shape, you know.
How about you?”

“Yeah, same. Terrance here is a real
stickler for proper training, too.” He pointed with his chin at his
muscular friend, who didn’t so much as smile our way, ignoring my
presence entirely. “Pretty crazy bumping into you again last
night.” I could tell his shyness was fishing for something to
say.

“Yeah, sorry about your head.” I thought
about touching his arm, but that seemed too forward. My tongue had
swelled so much that it felt like I was talking funny, but Vince’s
face didn’t seem to register a change.

“It was nothing.” He rubbed his forehead
where a red spot marked our encounter. “We do seem destined to keep
running into each other, don’t you think? We’ve had what, three
collisions?”

I laughed, my heart leaping at the sound of
his voice. The urge to kiss him returned, fiery and unstoppable.
“So, uh, Vince . . .”
Would you like to go out to
dinner?
I repeated a million times in my head, about to hurl
them at his ears.

“Hey, if you’re not doing anything tonight,
would you like to go to a Blazers game with me?” he asked, throwing
off my whole prepared speech. “I have an extra ticket, and I’d
really like it if you joined me.”

Staggered, the question made my knees
buckle.
Stop staring at him and say something!
the little
voice inside me screamed. “Basketball?” was all I could manage, in
a small, mousy voice.

“I mean, if you’re not into it, that’s
cool,” he said, and I could see where the conversation was
going.

“I’d love to,” I blurted. “I’m a big, big
fan of the Blazers. Love basketball.” I’d never been so thrilled
about a sporting event in my life; my body was afire with
excitement.

“Really?” he said, skeptical.

“Oh, yeah.” I felt like a fool for saying
it, knowing the truth would come out later, but I had to get
closer, had to take the opportunity. “Well, more college,” I lied.
“Go Ducks!” Hopefully that would distract him from asking too many
questions about the NBA, of which I knew very little indeed.

“Well, that’s, uh—that’s cool.” He cleared
his throat. “To be honest, I only watch March Madness, and that’s
about it as far as college games go . . . The
game’s at seven, so I’ll pick you up around six?”

“Sure, that sounds great,” I said smoothly,
checking my enthusiasm. I didn’t want to come off as a giddy high
school girl.

“You live with Danielle, right?”

I nodded.

“All right, then I have your address from
the insurance information.” Terrance was waiting by the stairs,
glaring at us, his eyes searing. “I better get going. I’m running a
bit behind today. I’ll see you at six.” He wiped down the bench he
used with a personal rag towel and spray bottle.

“Six sharp,” I said, nervous laughter
breaking through my professional barrier. He laughed, and I could
see the eagerness in his eyes before he turned and left. Did mine
possess the same obvious desire?

“Hey,” the bra-only woman said, coming up to
me. “What the hell was that? You’ve any idea how long I’ve been
working him?”

“What?” My lust transformed into annoyance.
Our eyes met and neither of us glanced aside.

“Back off,” Danielle said from behind the
woman.

“Or what?” The woman had a “Monica”
feistiness about her.

Danielle easily stood four inches taller,
though, and was intimidating enough. But before the scene
escalated, Ashley jogged up and grabbed her fiancée’s hand. “All
right, I think that’s enough for today.” She pulled her toward the
stairs, carrying all of our stuff.

I hurried after them. “That’s right,
bimbos,” the woman uttered under her breath.

When it came to men I found attractive, I
may have been a little hesitant and timid, but around women, it was
a different story. Charged with adrenaline, I wheeled around and
stared her down, my hand about to fling a slap at her mouth. I
controlled my anger. “Hey, Boobzilla, put some clothes on. Not
every man is interested in a tart.”

I caught her jaw dropping as I spun back to
Danielle and Ashley. She made no comeback.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Ashley
said, giggling.

“I told you she can get nasty if you piss
her off,” Danielle said, starting up the car. “Frankly, I’m
surprised you didn’t slap her.”

I drank a huge gulp of water and let out a
massive exhale, energized. “I didn’t think that would look too
great, hitting someone in Vince’s own gym.”

“He’d know he’s looking at a woman who
doesn’t take any shit,” Danielle said. “So, tell us exactly what
happened.”

I supplied them with the particulars and, as
I told them the story, my stomach grew more and more nervous for
the coming evening. I had never been so attracted, so sexually
intrigued by a man before, and the thought of us together tensed my
muscles into knots.

Whatever the future held, I was about to go
on a date with a billionaire, and I was determined to make the
night a memory he wouldn’t soon forget.

V
ince arrived fifteen
minutes early. A knock at the door sent a wicked jolt to my heart.
I spied through the peephole, and then abruptly opened the door,
smiling so wide, it hurt. I found it extremely difficult to contain
my excitement. Vince stood there, alone, wearing a red jersey that
read “PORTLAND” across the front with a little “12” underneath it.
Over this, draped a snug custom-made black blazer with “RIP CITY”
embroidered on the chest in white and red. He even wore a pair of
custom Blazer basketball shoes.

Seeing all the Blazer gear reminded me of
the first bad date with BlazerFan88, and my heart sank at the
thought, hoping that the night didn’t go the same route. I scanned
the vicinity for his partner but saw no one. “What, no bodyguard?”
I asked, joking.

“He’s over there.” He pointed to a man
parked on a motorcycle, reading a book.

“Oh, right . . .” Suddenly my
joke didn’t seem so humorous. “Is that Terrance?” I asked, noticing
the beard dangling underneath the helmet.

“Yes,” Vince answered quickly. “He’s my
prime bodyguard and sometimes driver.”

“You have more than one?”

“I have a few,” he said. He clapped his
hands, animated. “So, are you ready for tonight?”

“Uh—actually—no, sorry. Could you give me a
minute?” I had spent over an hour on my hair, only to give up and
let it down as it was, with small ringlets and my bangs flowing to
the left. Even with Danielle and Ashley’s help, putting together an
outfit that would leave an everlasting impression on him was no
easy task, probably taking just as long as my hair. The only
problem was that I hadn’t put it on yet, afraid to ruin it.

“Yeah, no problem,” he said. “Can I come
in?”

“Oh, right.” I stepped back and waved my
hand for him to enter. “I’ll just be a sec.” I scurried off to my
bedroom and threw off my clothes, changing underwear. I swapped
into my favorite push-up, grabbed the ivory sweater dress off the
bed, and slipped the plush knit over my head. The deep scoop neck
accentuated my bustline and revealed enough cleavage to make a man
sweat with excitement—or so I hoped. I forwent any leggings despite
the cold and chose to show off some leg, figuring it would be warm
enough in the stadium. For the same reason, I also sacrificed my
usual scarf, hoping that it challenged Vince’s attention to focus
on me instead of the game, knowing how easily men could be
distracted by a little skin. I paired my brown knee-high boots with
the dress and fake pearl earrings.